Totally tubular

My last post was sort of mistitled. Instead of being about the boy, it was really more about me, me, me. So here's an extra dose of Opie.

Aside from sleeping, which he most definitely prefers not to do on his own, he is very independent. He rejected bottles in favor of sippies at eight months, and he now uses just one hand to hold up the cup, like he's Mr. Cool. He loves table food and please, no itty-bitty, there's-no-way-to-choke-on-this bites. He wants something he can grab onto and gnaw.

As I think is typical of many second children, he plays on his own quite well. Current favorite activities are pushing a toy broom and stirring the pots in the kiddie kitchen (the picture is pre-haircut, obviously). He loves toy phones and remote controls and holds them up behind his ear as if having an important conversation.

He crawled at nine months, and seemed to care less about getting from point A to point B on the floor than about getting to the nearest vertical surface. He immediately started pulling up, cruising, and climbing. Put anything taller than about 8 inches anywhere near him and he's immediately trying to figure out a way to get on top of it, hoisting his left leg as high as it can go. He's already done a swan dive off the top of Jo's bed — over the safety rail.

He doesn't say any words yet, but he has quite the repertoire of sounds and snorts. His hearing is muffled by the constant presence of fluid in his ears (more often than not infected) so he's getting ear tubes in a few weeks. We're placing all our eggs in this basket, hoping it's the magic cure to his inability to sleep through the night. If it doesn't work, I'm hiring a night nurse. Or enrolling him in baby boarding school. One or the other.